Raviel the Phantom

March 24

On 3/23/2020 at 4:25 AM, Des Teto said:

Since quarantine can last until May (in Wuhan, it has been two months so far), I will grow hair for once, just out of curiosity.

I had plans to cut my hair the week of lock down. Since I hate having long hair I bought a clipper and had my friend cut it. Hopefully it will grow out by the time the quarantine is over.

March 22

With the world swept in a pandemic, a lot of us have holed up in our houses to protect ourselves from COVID-19. Some of us are able to work from home, myself included, but for others there is a lot of free time. So, what are you doing to pass the time while stuck at home.

I myself have been practicing coding/messing with artificial intelligence, while fostering a dog.

November 24, 2016

This episode has a surprisingly dark tone to it. I mean they actually show bodies frozen, showing the realistic destruction Kyurem has wrought.

November 4, 2016

Girantina definitely stole the show. Those eyes, though, those are haunting eyes of a terrifying Pokemon.

November 2, 2016

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Cool water hits a clammy temple, and the body stirs. A groan lets out through a pair of chapped lips.

“Uh, where, where am I?”

Opening his eyes, the man is swarmed in a haze. The first thing that comes to his senses is pain. A sharp stabbing at his wrists claw at his nerves like thorns. He looks to find his arms are shackled in old cuffs painted with rust. Ten inches of chains lead from wall to his restraints, hanging both arms over his head. Blood trickles down his arms, creating flowing rivers of red. A dank smell tickles his nose, a foul putrid smell of sewage. It causes him to gag, but it does not take him long to grow accustom to it. Faint, white light pours in through a hole above him, revealing moss crawling up stone walls. The stone floor is sheened with a slick wetness.

When the man moves, he feels soreness in his arms, which makes him let out a soft groan. He adjusts his stance to relieve his aching muscles. The quiet darkness is snuffed out by soft taps of footsteps, which grow louder.

Suddenly, a fire is birthed in the blackness. Orange light bathes over the shadows, and begins to sway from side-to-side. Embers dance in a glass lantern that is jostled in the gloved hand of a young lad. He merrily dances toward the captured man. When he is only a few feet away the boy sets down his light, and gives a gracious bow. Dressed in a white coat of a ringmaster, he gives a twirl, letting out a childish chide. Stopping on one foot does he face the captive. Eyes filled with a golden hue stares and a sinister grin spreads across his face. The grin distorts the spades inked under his eyes.

“Good morning, good morning,” the young lad says cheerfully. “I’m glad you’re awake. It is good if you listen, good for your sake.”

The chains rattle as the captive snarls, “Quit screwing with me!”

“Oh no, no-no-no, this I do not do. You are not a toy, no nuts and bolts, so nothing for me to screw. I am here, for a child so dear, one that you know too well.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh my, oh no,” Toymaker steps closer to the captive, “I think it has become clear. That glaze in your eyes, the stain on your thighs, and the fact you reek of beer.”

Merrily strolling away, Toymaker is draped in shadows, leaving the captive to lash out at the air. In the darkness, he can hear the light scraping of metal against stone. All of a sudden the emptiness is blasted with singing of a metallic vibration. The ringing comes again, tolling like bells, growing loud like thunder. At the edge where the light touches the darkness does Toymaker appear with a crowbar in hand. Again he strikes the wall with the piece of iron, letting out the hollow tune echo.

“Does it look familiar?” he asks, swinging it around as if it were a sword.

The man furrows his brow, “It’s a crowbar. What of it?”

“Not just any,” Toymaker’s tone darkens, “Think. Think. Think.”

Stumbling through the front door, the man walks into the dimly lit living room. He is free of any shackles, though he strolls with the same haziness. Held in one hand is a beer bottle which has nearly been drunk. As he steps to the center of the living room, he starts to sway in place and looks around. Aside from some worn furniture and a small television, there is nothing else. Downing the rest of his drink, he tosses the bottle against a wall. It explodes into thousands of shards. Glass rains onto the couch.

“Luke,” he shouts with a twinge of slurring on his tongue. “Luke get in here!”

At first, he is answered only by silence. Shuffling feet peter toward the living room. From the hallway a small boy pokes his head in. He rubs his eyes of the sleep, and hugs a disheveled teddy bear close to his chest.

“You left the light on!”

“I, I-I am sorry.”

“You don’t pay the bills around here you little brat,” he shouts.

Storming toward the child, the boy cowers as his father marches right past him. Down the hallway, the man vanishes into a room, but emerges soon after. Clutched in his hand is an iron crowbar. He swats hit into his open palm a few times.

“I’ll knock some sense into you so that you remember next time.”

Blood splatters onto the stone as the bar slams into the cheek of the captive man. Toymaker holds it like a bat as he swings again, hitting the ribs. His victim shouts and screams as he is viciously beaten.

“Think. Think. Think,” Toymaker barks with every swing. “Think. Think. Think.”

The crowbar is drenched in red when he finally lowers the weapon. Hanging by the cuffs, the man barely holds onto consciousness. Welts are already forming on his swollen face. Shards of teeth lay at his feet in the pool of blood. He takes a breath, as tears drip off his face.

“You remember,” he shouts at the captive. “Do you finally remember?”

“Yes. Yes, I remember. I used it to beat my son.”

“Your son, your son, you beat your son,” Toymaker throws as it sails into the shadows with a metallic bounce. “Fathers are meant to be soldiers. They protect their children from what they fear, not be what they fear.”

The father spits blood in Toymaker’s face, “Screw. You.”

“No screws,” a gloved hand grips the man by the throat, squeezing the life out of him, “You are not a toy, no nuts and bolts, at least not yet.”

The hand slips away, as the father sucks in air at a panicked pace. Instead it delves into his pocket, returning into the lantern light with a knife in hand. Glistening in the soft orange light, the blade delves into flesh, causing fresh blood to be spilled. Screams rupture from the father’s throat.

“Nuts, bolts, screws are needed,” Toymaker begins to sing, “To do what must be done. I’ll take you apart, rip out your heart, to build a soldier for your son.”

October 29, 2016

That Old Chateau was definitely a creepy episode. Chansey's face was unsettling.

October 21, 2016

Kyogre is the only Pokemon that I am afraid of. And seeing it about to chomp on Archie confirmed those fears. I would never go swimming in the Pokemon world for fear that thing is lurking in the depths.

October 16, 2016

As the detective passes through the front door, he is immediately struck with the thunderous roar of childish laughter. He forcefully presses his hands over his ears to muffle the noise. In that brief silence, he sees the buildings is flooded with both toys and kids. Boys and girls of ranging from two to ten appear to be running around in utter chaos. Many stuffed animals are strewn across the floor, while others are in the arms of the little ones. Watching the torrent of kids at play, Drake grimaces.

Entering the toy store behind him is another officer. A few years older than the detective, she has an air of maturity around her. Long fiery red hair is tied back in a bun. Her fierce green eyes spy the look of repulsion on his face.

“What?” he asks, noticing a sly smile.

“Nothing,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “It’s just I’ve never really seen you rattled before.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You have a look like you just stepped in something gross.”

The detective jumps out of the way as a boy and girl run past him, “Kids are dirty little creatures that have a habit of making everything they touch sticky.”

Pulling on his coat, he looks down to find that one of the children had left behind a piece of candy. He frowns and pulls the piece of colorful sugar from it. The red sweet is coated with black furs.

“And this is exactly what I mean,” he groans, throwing the candy onto the floor. “Let’s find the owner and get out of here as soon as possible.”

Starting to walk, he hears the policewoman say, “So, do you really think there is a lead here? I mean, the witness was pretty adamant about it.”

“The guy seemed a bit of a loon to me,” Drake looks over his shoulder. “I doubt we’ll find anything here, but what kind of detective would I be to ignore our only lead?”

Not too far into the toy store do they find the man they are looking for. Dressed in a brown, plaid suit, the balding gentleman turns in their direction when the footsteps grow louder. A middle-aged face with crow’s feet around a pair of auburn eyes look generously on the pair. The older man puts his hand against his protruding stomach, and smiles.

“Well, hello there,” the man says, his mustache twitches every time he moves his lips. “I just got the call that the boys in blue would coming over to my humble toy shop.”

“Yes, Mr. Sanely,” Drake shakes the owner’s hand. “I’m Detective Drake Holloway, and this is my colleague.”

“Officer Lidia Manis,” she extends her hand, which is received by the shop owner.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” he says, keeping the friendly smile. “So what is it that you two need?”

“Well,” Lidia opens her mouth, but struggles to find the right words.

The detective steps in, “We would like to know more about your store’s mascot, Toymaker.”

“What about the fella?”

There is a wave of color that rises to Officer Manis’ cheeks, “One of our witnesses reported seeing your mascot fleeing the scene of a crime.”

Hearing this, the warm smile cracks, spilling into a fit of laughter, “You cannot be serious right now.”

“We are,” Drake remarks.

“What?” Mr. Sanely breaks off from his guffaw, “You think my boy just decided to mosey out of my store to break the law? He may be a feat of engineering, but he can’t up and walk out of here.”

“We are not suggesting anything like that,” the detective quickly corrects himself. “It is more likely that somebody is disguised in the same clothing as your Toymaker. If we could take a look at him, it would better suit our investigation.”

“Well that makes a bit more sense,” the owner says, tugging on his coat. “I’ll take you to him. He’s out in the showroom.”

Walking in between the two law enforcement officers, Mr. Sanely leads them to a location to the back of the store. Children flood around a small stage, clapping and laughing all the while. Dancing about the wooden platform is a robot that looks as if he no older than sixteen. He dresses like a circus ringmaster. A long coat and matching top hat are as white as snow with trim of deep purple. As the machine twirls, he stops and faces the detective. On the pale face there are a pair of black spades. Eyes open to showcase an eerie golden hew. The boy smiles.

“Oh me, oh my,” Toymaker lets out a childish laugh. “What a sight to see. Have you come to watch little old me?”

Drake leans in to the owner’s ear, “Is it able to recognize people.”

“Facial recognition, full range of motion, and some other techno-junk,” Mr. Sanely whispers. Looking at the mechanical creation, he speaks aloud, “So, Toymaker, what are you doing?”

“Dear Mr. Sanely, it is crystal clear. Judge by the children, the laughter you hear. I am Toymaker, a maker of toys, here to spread joy to all girls and boys.”

“Thank you very much, Toymaker,” he gives the robot a smile.

“Quite amusing,” the detective answers. “Although I could see why our witness was so adamant. The clothes are, well, unique.”

“Mr. Sanely,” Lidia chimes in, “Is it possible to purchase a costume like the Toymaker?”

“I don’t sell anything like that,” the man says. “Nor do I keep any spares. When his clothes start to wear, I order them from a tailor.”

“May we get a number for that tailor?”

“Certainly.”

“Oh me, oh my, is that a badge I see,” Toymaker suddenly bounds towards them, yet staying on stage. “Are you here to arrest little old me?”

“Not unless you did something wrong,” Drake jokes.

“I do nothing wrong, as I said before. I am Toymaker, master of the store. I make the toys, it’s what I do. I also make children smile, and protect them too.”

October 13, 2016

“Hey, kid, what do you think you’re doing here? Can’t you see this is a crime scene?”

Sausage-sized fingers are held aloft to block a man in his early twenties from taking another step. The swelled digits belong to a portly policeman whose stomach stretches his blue uniform to the point that the buttons strain.

The kid stands on the other side of police tape with his hands in the pocket of his black coat. Wind pulls at the red scarf about his neck, and ruffles his auburn hair.

“Yeah, Chuck,” he smirks, “That one still makes me laugh.”

The young adult lifts up the yellow ribbon and passes underneath.

“So, where’s your chaperone, kid?”

“No need for one,” the young man answers. “You are looking at the lead detective for this case.”

“Oh, is that so?” Chuck smiles. “Guess our little Drake has grown up before our eyes.”

He presents to wipe a tear from his eye.

“I feel so proud…”

Drake lets out a sarcastic laugh, “Funny, Chuck, you’re such a riot. Can you let me through?”

“Sure thing, detective,” the portly policeman guffaws and slaps his stomach. Swinging out of the way, he lets the young man pass.

Taking a deep breath, the young detective takes his first steps into his crime scene. A smile crosses his face as he looks around at the open park. The sun has just risen over the rolling hills, blanketing the cobble stones in a golden blanket. Off in the distance he catches the sound of trickling water, probably coming from the fountain.

Before he takes another step, he turns back, “Chuck, you forgot to tell me what happened here.”

“A jogger found the Jane Doe this morning. I think you’ll appreciate this one. She’s a real doll.”

Slapping his belly enough to make it sway, the man roars with laughter from his own jest. While the cop continues his laughter, the detective merely rolls his eyes. He leaves the policeman to his merrymaking.

Walking a hundred yards into the park he finds a pair of medical examiners busy taking pictures of the body. As he gets closer, Drake sees that the Jane Doe has a face as if it were made out of porcelain. Golden locks of hair are spun into childish pigtails. Full red lips appear strikingly against her near white flesh despite most likely being blue underneath. Soft blush cheeks and dark lashes accent her emerald eyes, which sparkle like the jewels they mimic. Hugging her body is a sparkling blue dress that is fit for a princess and a pair of matching high heels.

“Oh, wow, she really does look like a doll,” Drake admits, standing beside the body.

Hearing the remark, one of the examiners takes her attention away from the camera, “Oh, detective, it’s good that you’re here.”

“Thanks,” he answers, turns in her direction and recognizes the woman “Miss Miller, I didn’t realize you would be conducting the examination.”

“Yes I am,” she answers in a pleasant tone. “And please, call me Casey.”

“So, what do you got for me then, Casey?”

“Nothing yet,” she looks at the body. “There was no identification on her. The killer must’ve taken it.”

“Cause of death?”

“Nothing that jumps out,” she explains.

“Do you have anything that can explain this?” he points to the doll-dressed corpse.

“Look, detective,” she says calmly, taking off her glasses, “I know that it’s your first case, but you know better to ask all of these questions. I will find out more once I conduct a proper autopsy.”

His face becomes flushed, “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I’m a little on edge.”

“It’s okay, Drake,” she reassures him, “Just—”

“Hey kid!” Chuck shouts, waddling toward them.

“What’s up, Chuck?”

“We got a guy who claims he might have witnessed the killer fleeing the scene,” the cop wheezes.

“What?” Drake sounds surprised. “What did he say?”

“You won’t believe who he says did it.”

Drake and Casey glance at one another before speaking in unison, “Who is it?”

“Toymaker.”

October 6, 2016

A soothing melody stirs a beautiful woman from her slumber. Batting her lashes, the burred world drains away as everything comes into focus. The gentle tune tickles her ears, begging her to search the room. With only a flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, much of it is lost to shadows. Yet she discovers a toy carousel spotlighted on a wooden table nearby. Ivory stallions race to the music, while a brass key slowly turns its gears. With each revolution, the song slows along with the galloping steeds. Seconds pass, and everything comes to a stop.

As the silence continues to linger, panic starts to set in. Looking around, she spies an assortment of marionettes hanging from the walls, strangled by the same strings that give them life. Some of the wooden figures have their soulless eyes locked on her, never to avert their gaze.

“Where, where am I?”

Panic starts to set in, as the woman struggles to remember. Trying to recall the events that lead her here only yields hazy memories and a sharp pain in the back of her head. Slowly, she rises to her feet, finding the strength in her legs have been severely sapped. After a few wobbling steps, she walks forward only to have something cold tug on her leg. Gazing at her ankle, she finds an iron cuff hugging her ankle, binding her to the floor by heavy chains.

“What’s going on?” she speaks louder.

“The lovely lady is awake,” a cheerful voice calls to her from the shadows.

She turns in the direction of the voice. Whoever it is that she sees it sends her reeling. Her feet get tangled in the chains, causing her to tumble on her backside. Nightmarish horror fills her sight.

“You know me,” he jeers, gleefully clapping his hands. “The lovely lady knows me!”

She hugs herself, “What do you want with me?”

“Maria, Maria, my dear sweet Maria, you really do not know?” the childish voice sings. “You go out every night, to feel some excite, but leave your daughter at home. She fends for herself, no food on the shelf, and goes to bed alone.”

“My daughter,” her words spit like a venomous snake. “Did she put you put to this?”

“That would be great, but she’s only eight,” the merry tone dies. “I do this on my own. You’ve been a bad, bad mother Maria. Neglectful, selfish, abusive. No love for your sweet child.

“Ashley,” she shouts, her words having a venomous bite, “Did my daughter put you up to this?”

“That would be great, but she’s only eight, I do this on my own,” the merry tone starts to fade. “You’ve been a bad mother. Neglectful, self-centered, selfish. No love for your child. Your daughter deserves someone to stay by her side, and that’s what I’ll make.”

Casually, he strolls over to a workshop table where the marionettes hang above his head. Rummaging through the tools, he throws anything he does not need over his shoulder. Maria watches as saws fall near her feet. Water fills her eyes. She whimpers like a frightened animal. All of a sudden, she hears an “aha” as he raises his arms up in the air. Whipping around, the light shines of the jagged teeth of a buzz saw.

“No, no, leave me alone,” she shrieks, trying to crawl away.

“Now-now, my dear, do not fear, everything will soon be at an end,” he sings, stepping on the chain. “With these tools I’ll start to take you apart, and then you’ll finally have a heart!”

A flick of the switch spins the saw to life. The wailing of the motors drowns out Maria’s blood curdling scream as he kneels down to begin his work.

Get to know your fellow Members! · October 4, 2016

[b]Name:[/b] Raviel the Phantom
[b]Age:[/b] 26
[b]Birthday:[/b] June 20 1990
[b]Location:[/b] Pennsylvania
[b]Height: [/b] 5' 11"
[b]Hair Color:[/b] Brown
[b]Eye Color:[/b] Blue
[b]Live With:[/b] My Wife
[b]Pets?:[/b] Not aloud to have any (I want a dog!)
[b]Relationships?:[/b] Married
[b]Crushes lately?:[/b]
[b]Dream Job:[/b] What Tony Stark Does
[b]Currently Playing:[/b]

[b]Favourite Food:[/b] Pizza
[b]Favourite Drink: [/b] Yuengling
[b]Favourite Color: [/b] Red
[b]Favourite kind of Music: [/b] Rock/Alternative
[b]Favourite Band:[/b] Three Days Grace
[b]Favourite Album: [/b] Don't Have One
[b]Favourite Game: [/b] Paper Mario: Thousand Year Door
[b]Favourite Genre of Game:[/b] Action/Adventure
[b]Favourite Hobbies:[/b] Drawing, Writing, Golf, Archery, Hunting
[b]Favourite Movies:[/b] Tremors, Rush Hour, Iron Man
[b]Favourite Shows:[/b] Lucifer, Sleepy Hollow, Game of Thrones

September 24, 2016

I actually think they should just cut Ash's story and focus more on whatever they are doing with this.

September 13, 2016

I haven't smiled like this since my wedding day.

July 4, 2016

Meteor

Type: Fire

Category: Special

Power: 300

Accuracy: --

PP: 5

Descriptions:

The user uses half of its HP to summon a Meteor. Two turns later, it will fall on the batlefield and cause a great explosion, damaging both sides, and guarantees a burn. Hits through the invulnerable phase of Fly and Dig, but only has halved power against Dive.

Learned by: Clefable, Jirachi, Deoxys, Delphox.

It seems like it is an awfully overpowered move, especially it doesn't knock out the user like Self-Destruct and Explosion do, which have a lower base power. I like the idea of the two turns later, just make it like a fiery Future Sight.

Name: Zen Punch

Type: Fighting

BP: 80

PP: 15

Accuracy: 100

Physical Attack

The Pokemon focuses their inner mind to deliver a cosmic strike. Calculates with the target's Special Defense instead of Defense.

May 5, 2016

I would change the type match up of fairy, making it weak to Dragon. That way they are weak to one another, which I think is a bit more balanced than Fairy being completely immune.

My next change would have to be making the bad guys more competent so the fact that we beat them to feel a bit more satisfying. Also bump up the AI on all gym leaders and boost the difficulties. Gym leaders are meant to be a challenge. In addition to that, give us a hard mode for the games. A lot of players are more experienced and can handle the higher challenge.

Last change would be adding a held item that cuts the damage of 4x weakness in half. This is biased for all my favorite dragons getting one-shot by an ice beam.

February 16, 2016

I did not, didn't even go in that direction.

February 16, 2016

Okay I am utterly lost. I just defeated Angie and went back to the Villa with the long cut-scene with Melia. I know I have to somehow melt the TM shop, but don't know how.

January 25, 2016

Chapter 8

“When you said dinner, I thought you meant some place nicer?” Kiera rolls her eyes.

She and Lucas stand by the cash register of a common fast food chain restaurant. The devil is in front of her talking with the cashier, a pretty brunette about the same age as Kiera. With every word that comes out of his fanged-filled mouth, the employee becomes more nervous. In front of the register is a small screen to allow the customers to track their order. Lucas glances down, seeing it filling with food. The price continues to rise along with it.

“…and a milkshake,” he says, finally completing his order. He looks over to his shoulder to see that Kiera has the same uneasy look as the cashier. “What do you want to get?”

She looks up at the menu, looking for something healthy,” Uh, how about the salad.”

“Alright,” the cashier seems to calm down as she puts the order in. “Your order comes to…” her eyes widen when she sees the total, “$312.45.”

Lucas only smiles, “No problem.”

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wallet, much to Kiera’s surprise. She glances over his shoulder while he fumbles through a number of cards that she has never seen before. His fingers manage to slide on out. The plastic card is marked with the restaurant’s logo, but is completely black. He hands it to the girl, who looks at it suspiciously. Cautiousness aside, the cashier swipes the card in their system. The meal is completely paid for. Both she and Kiera are shocked, but Lucas merely snatches the card out of the girl’s hands, taking the receipt with it.

The poor cashier is a bit disturbed, “Uh, well, thank you for choosing McBurger Boy, you’re order will be up shortly.”

“You have my thanks,” he grins, walking away to a booth nearby. Kiera follows.

When they sit down, she whispers, “How did you pay for that? Did you cheat them out of that money?”

“I’m not that evil,” he chuckles. “It is quite a story if you would believe me. However, you are the skeptic, so it would be wasted.”

“Try me,” Kiera scowls, folding her arms.

“I met an Irishman back in the fifties who owned a small burger joint,” he says. “He wanted riches, so he sold his soul to obtain it. I helped transform that humble restaurant into a fast food empire that stretches across the globe. Well, about twenty years ago I decided to collect, but had a change of heart at the last second. In truth, I only accepted because his burgers were so delicious. So I revised his deal. He kept his soul and I got an eternity of free burgers.”

For some reason, Kiera is not as surprised by the tale. Two trays are carried from behind the counter to their booth. One is placed in front of Lucas. It holds a mountain of burgers. The exact number is unclear, as Kiera stopped keeping track of the order after twenty. Meanwhile, she has only a humble plate full of vegetables and a packet of dressing on the side. The cashier stares at the stack of food for a moment, but scurries away when another customer walks up to the counter behind her. Just as she leaves, Lucas tears away the wrapper to one of the burgers and takes a bite. He consumes the entire burger in a few bites, his fingers greedily reaching for another one. Kiera pokes at her salad, but loses her appetite from watching the devil eat.

“You’re going to get sick,” she says, watching him start on his third burger.

After swallowing, he retorts, “I’m not like humans, I don’t have a digestive track.”

“Then why did you get so much food?”

“I eat for pleasure,” he grabs another burger and scarfs it down. “Humans have definitely created many tasty dishes. I try to find something new to eat when I visit Earth.”

“So can every demon come up?” she asks, a little frightened by the thought.

“Only a handful,” he answers, pausing to take a sip of his milkshake. “Most demons need to be summoned through some sort of ritual to make it to Earth. I’m the only one that can pass without any help. However, it is strenuous to do it without any help.”

“Then, why are you here now?” she stabs into a tomato and brings it up to her lips.

“You summoned me.”

“Wait, how?” Kiera puts the fork down, “I didn’t do any sort of ritual or anything like that.”

Lucas points to her chest, “You have that.” Kiera grabs the chain around her neck to reveal the pendant tucked under her short. The ruby at the center appears blacker, cracked where the knife had penetrated it. The snake also has broken streaks crossing around its scales. “When that was damaged, a part of your powers as a Horseman woke up.”

“That still doesn’t explain how I summoned you,” she insists.

“You are the Horseman of Death,” he answers. “It is said in the scriptures that when Death rides that all of Hell with ride with him. In other words, you can summon the forces of Hell to fight for you. Since you only have a fraction of that power, you only got one.”

“So what happens if my seal is broken?” she takes the pendant in her hand and looks down at it.

“The end of the world,” he says.

“What?” she shouts so loud that others in the restaurant turn their attention to her.

Lucas sighs, “Have you never read the bible?”

“No,” she says. “My parents were not that religious.”

“Well you are one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” he begins, “The fourth to be precise. The other three are known as Pestilence, War, and Famine. Once their seals have been broken, they shall inflict the world with their strife. You are meant to seal the fate of humanity. When your seal is undone, the dead shall walk again, leaving it up to the living to fill the coffins.”

Kiera shudders at the thought, “Lucas, there is something else.”

“What is it?” he asks.

“Last night, I had a dream. I was standing in the middle of four tombstones. There were these people in robes. My parents were there, calling to me, but they weren’t calling to me. I saw myself crawl out of one of the graves. But it wasn’t really me. My hair was silver and I had glowing red eyes.”

Lucas thinks for a moment, tapping his finger against the table. Then he takes another drink of his milkshake before answering, “The woman you saw that looks like you is you in a sense. That is you as the Fourth Horsemen. It probably wasn’t a dream either, more like a vision.”

“What do you mean a vision?”

“It is possible that your horseman-self wanted to show you something,” he suggests, “But what I don’t have the faintest idea.”

“Well if it was a vision, why were my parents there?”

He thinks it over for a moment, “Did you always have the seal?”

“No,” she answers. “My parents gave it to me yesterday for my birthday.”

He grimaces at the thought, “It is possible that your parents as you call them were not entirely your parents.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she glowers at him.

“There is no denying that you are Death,” he points out, trying to ease the bitterness building in her silver gaze. “Your parents were probably members of some sort of occult that is trying to make the apocalypse happen.”

She is about to shout, but controls her voice into an angry whisper, “My parents would not want the end of the world.”

“It is possible,” he says. “The apocalypse is believed to be an instrument of God. Some people would consider it good to enact His work and enact the end of days.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” she sulks in her chair. “So, I’m Death, now what?”

“What are we going to do now?”

“That’s completely up to you, Kiera. What do you want to do?”

“I really don’t want the world to end.”

“Then we will stop the apocalypse,” he says a matter-of-factly.

“We?” she looks at him oddly.

“Yes, we,” he says. “I actually like the way the world is right now.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring coming from you,” she smirks.

“Yes I may be considered the ultimate evil,” Lucas says, “But I will admit there is a lot of good. I have watched humanity rise for thousands of years to progress. I have grown fond of the world as it is now, and would hate to see it destroyed.”

January 25, 2016

Chapter 7

Kiera has found herself sitting in the middle of the cafeteria with her best friend Rose for lunch. Her lunch tray sits in front of her untouched, except for the open milk carton. Meanwhile, she is carelessly poking at the substance the lunch lady referred to as meat. It is a grey mass of something that oozes brown when she pokes it with her fork. She grimaces at the sight of it, pushing her tray away. Rose watches her with a smile. The bubbly girl has her lunch packed full of fresh fruits and vegetables that coincide with her peanut butter sandwich. Kiera looks at the delicious spread.

“Do you want my apple?” Rose offers.

“No,” Kiera quickly declines, but her stomach lies with an angry growl. Hanging her head in defeat, she takes the red fruit. She takes a bite, finding the sweet juices explode in her mouth. After a few more bites, she sets the core down with a, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Rose answers, delighted. “How come you bought today?”

“Because my parents,” Kiera starts to answer, but stops short when she remembers the gruesome truth that her parents are gone. The remaining words come out somber, “They didn’t pack me a lunch.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she answers, taking a bite of her sandwich. Chewing it first then washing it down with milk clears her mouth to speak, “So, how come you never mentioned your cousin to me before?”

“Oh him,” the thought of Lucas allows her to push the image of her dead parents aside for the time being. “Well, he lives pretty far away. The guy is a total creep.”

“He seems pretty cute to me,” Rose gives a sly smile while color raises to her cheeks.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get involved with someone like him,” Kiera folds her arms in a huff. “He is bad to the very core.”

“Oh, here he comes.”

Kiera turns in her chair to see the devil walk into the cafeteria. He peers among the crowd, trying to search for her. Oh, just go away, she thinks quietly, turning away before he spots her. Unfortunately for her, Rose waves Lucas over to them. He waves in and out of passing students with such grace it appears as if he is dancing. Passed the sea of people, he takes a seat right next to Kiera. She cringes at his presence, while Rose seems pleased.

“Where have you been?” the bubbly friend asks.

“I was having a nice talk with Mr. Anderson,” Lucas says, his eyes glancing down at the hand the dagger pierced. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Actually, I am done,” Kiera says, getting out of her seat. She takes the tray of untouched food with her, as she crosses the cafeteria. At the one wall is a line of garbage cans, which she uses to dispose of her meal. Both Lucas and Rose watch her dump her food and then head for the exit. The male of the duo gets up and follows her, leaving poor Rose to finish her lunch by herself.

The devil ducks and weaves again through the people, though this time he is not quite as graceful. A few bump into him, knocking him into others, who inadvertently push him back. He is knocked around like a pinball before finally exiting the cafeteria. Down the hall, he spies the platinum blond girl and runs after her. He calls out to her, but she does not even turn to look. Running after her, he manages to catch up to her just before she tries to run into the bathroom. He takes her by the arm and pulls her away from the door.

“Why are you running away from me?” he wants to know.

“Just leave me alone,” Kiera rips her arm free.

“You know I can’t,” Lucas insists. “And we need to talk. There is something about Mr. Anderson that you need to know…”

“I don’t care,” she shouts, making the few students in the hall to turn and look at her. It does not take long for onlookers to lose interest, thinking it as some lover’s spat. “I don’t care what you have to say. Leave me alone. Go back home, go back to hell, go anywhere, but here. I just want things to go back to normal, and they won’t as long as you’re here.”

He sighs, “Kiera, you that’s impossible. Deny it as much as you want, you are Death.”

“Well I never wanted to be that,” she sobs, tears filling her stone grey eyes.

Lucas puts a hand on her shoulder, “Kiera…”

“Will Miss Kiera Reins please come to the principal’s office,” they hear the voice over the sound system. “Miss Kiera Reins to the principal’s office.”

Kiera backs away from Lucas, “Look, I got to go. Maybe after school…I listen to what you have to say.”

She hurries away before he can pursue her any further. Down the hall and to the right takes her to the office. A wall of windows blocks the main hall from the large office, so she can see a collection of people standing inside. The blinds prevent her from seeing any further details. Opening the door, she is nervous to see two police officers standing next to the principal. He is seated in his desk. A frail older man with a face lined with wrinkles. The two sagging jowls on either cheek are turned down in a frown when he sees the young girl enter. The two officers look in her direction as well. One of them is round like a balloon with a bristly red mustache on his lip. The other is much younger with a military look to him.

“Miss Reins,” the principal says as Kiera closes the door behind her, “Please, have a seat.”

“What’s going on?” she says as she takes the only other seat in the office.

“These men are with the Fairhaven Police Department,” the old man answers. “They wanted to ask you a few questions about your parents.”

“Actually we would like you to come with us down to the station,” the round cop says, pulling his belt up against his engorged stomach.

“Wait, what’s going on?” she says, her voice cracking from the panic.

The young cop speaks up, “The mailman found your parents brutally murdered in their own home this morning. So far we have no other suspects, except for you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she feels herself stand up and back away. “There were two men that murdered them. They almost got me too…”

“Then how come your neighbors saw you heading to school this morning like you usually do,” the portly cop stops her. “And we have already scopes out the house. There were no signs of any forced entry.”

That’s right, Keira bites her lip. Lucas burned both bodies to ash. Even if I could tell them, they would have no proof unless they found the culprits.

“Like I said, would you come with us down to the station,” the fat cop says, his tone is unkind.

“Please Miss Reins,” the principal chimes in. “Please don’t have them force you.”

She stands there for a minute, as her back suddenly hits the door. Looking at them, all she can see is cold faces among the three men. Turning her head down, she holds out her hands. The young officer walks up to her, and she feels the cold metal grip her wrist. Handcuffs are placed on one hand, as the officer turns her around to cuff the other.

“Is that necessary?” the principal demands.

“It is just protocol, sir,” the portly officer says while his partner slaps the other cuff on her wrist, binding her arms behind her back.

Unable to resist in the slightest, Kiera is led out of the principal’s office in handcuffs. Luckily there is no one in the hall to witness her arrest as the two policemen lead her outside to the parked car. The portly cop pushes her through the door and down the steps. His partner gets into the driver side while the fat cop shoves Kiera in the back. She tumbles in the seat. By the time she gets back in the sitting position, the engine has roared and the driver has shifted it into drive. The police car starts to drive away. She looks back at the school, only to find a particular demon standing just outside, watching her disappear over a hill.

The trip to the station is left in silence. Neither police officer turns back to even look at her. Kiera can only pass the time by gazing out the window. On either side of the road are empty fields with high grass. In the distance is a line of oak trees that border the forest. Their leaves have transformed into an assortment of colors, some have even fallen to the green floor below. Along the tree line, she spots a deer, a buck rubbing his horns against the bark of one of these mighty trees.

I wonder if I will ever get to see this again, she turns away, her eyes full of sorrow. I will be sent away, there’s no doubt. I’m a bit scared. But why…why don’t I feel any sadness?

The police car is brought to an abrupt stop. Unable to brace herself, Kiera slams into the backseat. The portly police officer fetches her. Unforgivingly he yanks her out of the car and pushes her up the steps to the station. The two story building is shaped like a perfect cube, the old orange bricks showing signs of their age with cracks snaking through the mortar. Pushing her up the steps, they pass through the twin glass doors into the main station. At the station is the receptionist, a woman as round of belly as the cop. She has a thick pair of glasses strung together by a silver chain. The glasses magnify her eyes, making them three times bigger than normal. Still, this woman has to squint at Kiera to see.

“Who do we have here?” she asks with a nasally voice.

“Murder suspect,” the portly man says proudly. “We’ll be taking her to interrogation room one. Henry will pry the truth out of her.”

He shoves Kiera into the hall. She tries to take a look around, but the man continues to handle her aggressively. Along the way, she realizes that the younger officer has left them. The one left pushes her through a door to a small room. An old fashioned ceiling lamp hangs nearly three feet below the ceiling. The room itself is just big enough to fit a table and two chairs on either side. The portly cop slams the door shut behind her, leaving her alone. Behind the chair closest to the door is a large window. Kiera tries as hard as she can, but cannot see through. The one way glass is meant for her to be observed, not the other way around.

Suddenly, the door opens and the portly man comes in, joined with another. The other man, no doubt this Henry mentioned before, stands a good foot over his fellow officer. He appears to be a man in his late thirties, with signs of grey prickling his otherwise auburn hair. A hard faced that seems to be etched from stone match the haunting hazel eyes that seem to shift from green to grey with the slightest movements. Henry walks up to her, grabbing her from behind. She winces at first, but finds a surprise when the cuffs fall from her wrists. Now free, she rubs them, finding the metal to be chafing them for a while.

“Please, take a seat,” Henry offers her the chair furthest from the door. She does as she is told. The chair is uncomfortable, rigid and cold. She squirms a bit, trying to find a positon to settle herself in. Meanwhile, the interrogator sits across from her. He folds his hands together and stares at them for a moment. His portly accomplice hovers over his right shoulder, just a few feet from the door. “So, Miss Reins, things are not looking good for you. Two counts of murder in the first degree.”

“It wasn’t me,” she says, trying to keep her tone soft and steady.

“Then why don’t you tell me your side of the story,” he offers.

Taking a deep breath, Kiera regales the events that took place, “I walked home from school early that day. I had free period so I wanted to go home, because my parents said they had a big surprise for my birthday. When I entered the house, I saw my parents lying dead on the floor. There was a man in a mask standing over them. The knife was in his hand. I tried to run, but there was another person there who tried to grab me. I gave him the slip and ran down in the basement…”

“That must have been devastating,” Henry says, as he reaches over and touches her arm. “Finding your parents dead on your birthday…”

It was, and yet, I am not sad about it, she looks into Henry’s eyes and only nods.

“You said you ran into the basement, then what?”

A demon appeared and turned both attackers into a pile of ashes, she holds back a smile, thinking how crazy the idea seems, “I don’t remember. The next thing I knew I woke up in bed, thinking it was a bad dream.”

“A likely story,” the portly cop says, slamming his hand on the table. “When you left for school, did you just happen to forget the two bodies in your living room.”

“I, I normally leave out the side door by the kitchen,” she says, her voice quivering.

The round cop is not convinced, “Well I got some news for you, little girl. We have searched your house, and the only prints we’ve found are yours and your parents. So either they butchered themselves, or you did it.”

“Robert, that’s enough,” Henry shouts at his partner. “No need to be scaring a little girl with such lies.”

“Sir, are you okay?” Robert looks to the detective with a queer look.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” the detective says with a small grin.

“Well,” the portly cop looks from Henry to the girl, “You just seem to be going soft on the suspect.”

“Is that what you see?” Henry shakes his head. “This is not a suspect. All I see here is a young lady who has just lost both of her parents.”

“But the evidence…”

“Is circumstantial,” the detective gives a sharp look to the policeman. “Did it ever occur to you that the real culprits wore gloves, and that’s why we can’t find fingerprints?”

The cop starts to sweat, “Well, uh, I…”

Henry takes a look at Kiera, “And your suspect is an honor roll student, president of the equestrian club. Nothing in our records suggests that she would ever do that.”

He is baffled, “B-b-but sir!”

“Enough, I am sick of your blubbering,” Henry gets up, “You are free to go Miss Reins. If we find anything more, we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Kiera says, rising to her feet as well.

“Here, I’ll walk you out,” the detective offers.

The two of them walk out of the police station without any other obstacles in their way. Kiera steps through the door and takes a look at the scenery outside. She can see the same tree line yards away, a sight she feared she might never see again. Beside her, Henry grabs a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lights one up and inhales it deeply. A plume of smoke is lost in the wind. He tosses the cigarette away with a grin.

“So, tell me, Miss Reins, did you enjoy my performance?”

She looks at him oddly, “What on earth are you…”

Henry starts to shrink before her eyes. The colossal man that stood well over six feet is shortened by seven inches. Wrinkles of age on his face disappear. His features start to contort. The strong jaw shifts into the skull. Grey auburn hair lengthens and discolors to coal black. Finally, his hazel eyes become an auburn shade with a glint of gold. From a man to a devilishly handsome boy, the detective has transformed into Lucas.

“What?” Kiera is lost in confusion. “Lucas, how did you—”

Lucas grins, “They say the devil would be beautiful. I am able to use the sins of man to change my appearance as I see fit. I just so happen to see it fit to transform into the lead detective.”

“What happened to the real one?” Kiera asks warily.

“Napping somewhere inside,” he shrugs. “Best we leave before there is any confusion.”

He starts walking down the steps, Kiera following after, “So you can transform? Well what about this appearance?”

“This is how I really look,” Lucas stops at the bottom step and turns to her, “Why, is it not to your liking?”

“No, I mean yes, I mean,” Kiera suddenly feels heat rising to her face. “Just…never mind…”

The devil slips a hand on her shoulder, “Look, I know you do not want to accept it, but will you just here me out?”

Looking into those eyes that flash like fire, Kiera nods, “Sure.”

“Great,” he says, placing the other hand on his stomach, “Anyways, I’m starved. How about we discuss this over dinner?”

January 25, 2016

Chapter 6

“I beg your pardon?” Lucas turns. He puts his hand in the pocket of his jeans, trying to ignore the searing pain.

“It hurts, doesn’t it,” Anderson gives a venomous smile, as he points to the door. “There is no chance of escaping, monster. The walls have been doused in holy water, water blessed by His Holiness himself.”

Touching the door again, the devil feels a jolt of pain rush up his arm, making him recoil. Sharp, Amber eyes glance over his shoulder back at the chemistry teacher, “You are no ordinary man. Who are you?”

He folds his hands as he leans on his desk, “Why don’t you come here and chat for a bit. There is something I want to show you.”

What is his ploy? Lucas grimaces at the offer, but walks over to the teacher’s desk nonetheless. He grabs a chair from under one of the student’s desks and takes a seat across from Anderson. Man and demon stare at one another for a time, Lucas looking deeply in the emerald gaze of this man. The pools of green seem to pulse, the shades shift when he looks elsewhere. On his side, Anderson reaches underneath his desk. Lucas can only hear the sound of one of the desk drawers opening and the sifting of papers as the teacher retrieves something. The gloved hand of the chemistry teacher sets a box on the table, one no bigger than the textbook the students use. It is completed made from wood with steel bands on the four corners to hold it together. A cross seems to have been burned on the lid.

“What is this?” Lucas asks.

“A special tool,” the teacher takes the lid of the box in hand and removes it. Inside is a dagger, cushioned with a foam mold to make sure the weapon is protected. The hilt is quite bland. Solid steel handle with a coil of silver that spirals all the way to the round pommel. A golden crucifix is forged directly into the cross guard. The blade is six inches long, the metal appears almost obsidian. Across the center of the blade, Lucas recognizes ancient Aramaic written in silver, translating to “In His Name”.

Lucas shrugs at the weapon, “I’m guessing this is meant to slay me.”

“Indeed, demon,” Anderson takes up the weapon. The point of the dagger rests against his finger as he twirls it, as if inspecting the blade for any nicks in edge. “This dagger has been passed down through my family for generations. Its steel forged using the nail that pierced our saviors’ hand. Christ’s blood is soaked in this blade. It is a blessed weapon unlike any other. Would you like to see how it feels thrust through your heart?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Ah, quite the smart hell-spawn,” Anderson says, setting the sacred dagger back in its box. “Now I have a few questions that I need to ask you. Will you comply?”

“I will, if you answer a few of mine,” Luca folds his arms, staring defiantly.

Anderson nods, “I can consent to that. Now, tell me why scum like you has risen from the hellish pits to our little town?”

“Naturally, I was summoned from the depths of Hell,” the devil smiles revealing the set of fangs. “Now it is my turn. Who are you really?”

The chemistry teacher smiles, “My name is Robert Anderson, age thirty-seven. I am a high school chemistry teacher. I also happen to come from a long line of demon slayers.”

“Ah, an exorcist,” Lucas seems to be enjoying the conversation. “Demons have told such tales of your kind. I have yet had the pleasure to see one for myself. It is an honor.”

The smile Anderson had fades, “Joke all you want, fiend. I will be sending you screaming back to Hell soon enough. But first, I want the name of the person who summoned you.”

“I can’t give it to you,” Lucas grins. “I don’t know their name.”

“I think you do. Give me the name, or I’ll make experience a fate worse than death.”

“My lips are sealed.”

All of a sudden, Anderson smiles, “Oh, how forgetful can I be? It was your cousin, Kiera Reins. I should have known. I always sensed something foul when it came to her parents.”

“What do you—,” Lucas asks, but scowls when he sees the look in Robert’s eye. “If you think I’ll let you harm her, then you are sorely mistaken.”

A quick motion of the hand and a flick of the wrist have the sacred dagger buried in the back of Lucas’ hand. The blade pierces through his flesh and pins his palm to the desk. Mr. Anderson sits back, waiting for the demon to start screaming, but is greeted with another surprise. From the wound, blue flames bleed out, crawling up the blade. The fire rises, dancing with sapphire embers snaking up the dagger. It spreads like wildfire, swallowing the air. The exorcist stumbles out of his chair when he sees the fire, backing up against the blackboard. Lucas stays motionless while the flames swarm around him.

“What is going on?” Anderson shouts, sweat forming around his brow. The embers lick his cheeks, causing him to wince.

Lucas looks up, his eyes ignited in a glowing gold. Then his hand reaches for the sacred dagger in his hand. Grabbing the hilt, he rips the holy weapon out of his hand, tossing it on the table. The flames that surround the devil seem to vanish once the weapon is removed. The wound lingers a bit longer, but it closes up, like a beast shutting its maw. When all things are settled, Lucas rises from his chair.

“Leave her alone,” Lucas says. His voice is cold and unforgiving. “I care not what threats you make upon me, but I will slaughter anyone who tries to harm her.”

He gets up to leave, walking to the door when Anderson calls out, “To come away unharmed after touching the sacred dagger. Just what kind of demon are you?”

Lucas gets back to the door where the barrier had stopped him before. This time, he reaches for the handle. It sends pain up his arm, but he ignores it. Sparks erupt from the handle as the blue flames return, spewing from his palm. Through sheer force of will, Lucas rips open the door. Just as he does, he can hear the bell wring overhead. Within seconds, students are pushing past him to get into the class. He looks back to see Mr. Anderson sliding the box containing the dagger back in his desk drawer. The chemistry teacher seems lost, beads of sweat tricking down the side of his face. His eyes are solely focused on the demon. Their eyes meet, and he can see the fury of Hell in Lucas’ gaze.

Lucas steps out into the hall.

January 19, 2016

This is a rough draft to my next novel I hope to publish. It is my first young adult fantasy and am looking for feedback on the plot. Since it is a rough draft, grammar is not my complete concern. I am looking for any plot holes or things that don't make sense to the reader.

You can find it here: http://www.pokemonreborn.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=19511

Any feedback is helpful.

January 19, 2016

Chapter 5

While the rest of the students clear out of the classroom, Lucas and Mr. Anderson are left behind. The teacher motions for the young man to take a seat at the front desk. The elder takes his place at his desk, the coil of his seat sinks under his weight. He purposefully pauses for a moment in order to create tension. Lucas sits patiently, keeping straight faced, though his lip seems to be quivering into a cocky grin.

“You are quite the bright one,” Mr. Anderson finally breaks the silence.

Lucas shrugs, “I suppose so. I just watch a lot of educational television.”

The teacher cocks a brow, “I didn’t think they touch grad level chemistry on the Discovery Channel.”

“Yeah, I guess they did,” Lucas realizes he is caught in a lie. “I also read a lot of books.”

Mr. Anderson eyes the boy up and down. The icy blue eyes of his seem to pierce through Lucas, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. Another long pause follows, but then Mr. Anderson pulls aside his shirt collar. His thumb slides underneath a silver chain, as he pulls on it to reveal a heavy looking metal cross. The edges are inlaid with obsidian to accent the silvery glint of the steel. Instead of a metal savior being crucified, a blood-red diamond glistens under the florescent lights. At the three points are strange etchings that appear to be runes.

“That is quite an interesting cross,” Lucas admires.

“Thank you,” Mr. Anderson turns the jeweled crucifix to see it himself. “It was a gift. While a man of science, I do find the notion of a world beyond our understanding to be a fascinating one.”

“Oh I see,” Lucas’ eyes flash gold.

Mr. Anderson turns his eyes to Lucas again, “What do you think?”

“Me?” the young man wonders, furrowing his brow as if to think, “Well, I suppose it could be possible. There is a lot we don’t know about this planet.”

“My point exactly,” Mr. Anderson grins. “Well I think you and I will get along smoothly then. That is all I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Lucas fines it odd, as he rises from his seat, “Well then, I thank you for talking to me.”

Mr. Anderson waves him off, though when he speaks, his words sound like thunder and rocks crumbling from the earth.

Lucas turns to him and answers, “Thank you, have a good day.”

Mr. Anders smiles sweetly, “Not so fast…demon!”